Page 49 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

I know what I saw. I know I’m right. But does he realize just how far he’s already fallen?

In high school, Noah could have had just about any girl he wanted. He was charming and athletic, with a good boy vibe that’s stuck with him to this day. He’s the kind of guy a person would want to take home and introduce to their parents. He’s kind and well-liked, decent and truthful to the core.

Meanwhile, I was the scrawny kid wearing pants and long sleeves in the summer, uncertain about who he was, who he liked, or what he was feeling at any given time.

From a young age, Noah seemed to have his shit figured out, his self-assuredness inimitable. I know he’s just trying to fool himself now. There’s no way my call-out is catching him unaware.

He likes her. He fucking likes her.

How didn’t I see it coming? The worst part is that this scenario is of my own making. I picked the orchard for the class. I made it abundantly clear Sawyer needed to put concentrated effort into this project.

He fucking likes her.

He’s my best friend. He deserves to be happy. He’s lost so much…

But I won’t give her up that easily. Especially if he’s going to play games or not be forthright with her.

Changing tack, I square my shoulders and level him with a scowl. “I fucked her tits on Monday.”

He jerks back, his head lifting so suddenly I swear I hear his neck crack. “What the actual fuck, Merce?”

“I’m just letting you know.” I shrug. “I fucked her tits and came all over her chest.” I take two steps forward. “Then I ate her out. I laid her out on my desk and feasted on her perfect pussy.”

I inch closer, a predator sizing up an adversary. Is he going to fight back or cower as prey ?

“She’s so fucking sweet,” I taunt. “Wet and juicy. Just like that honey you love so much.”

His eyes flare, and he clenches his fists.

He’s right there. On the edge of losing control, on the precipice of free-falling and letting himself admit the truth.

I feel awful for what I’m about to do, but I need to fucking know. How badly does he want her? Is it a crush, or is he prepared to man up and admit his feelings?

I look him right in the eye and smirk. “You should see the way her chest heaves and all that creamy pale skin flushes red when she comes.” I get right up in his face, teeth gritted. “You should hear the sounds she makes when she’s choking on a cock and begging for more.”

I’m hit square in the chest, the blow like being hit by a high-speed train. I stumble back. He follows, shoving at my chest, raging and cussing, until I slam into the storage shed in the corner of the barn, making the doors rattle.

With one forearm locked against my sternum, he keeps me pinned in place and grinds his forehead into mine, seething. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

There it is.

The answer I didn’t want but needed to hear. A truth that changes everything.

I grunt, sucking in shallow breaths, unable to take in more oxygen because of the pressure he’s applying to my chest. With the type of fury that’s coursing through him, he’d be fully capable of cracking my ribs.

My lungs burn, but I don’t push him away. Only when I cough and gasp for air to ease the pain does he let up a fraction.

“You like her,” I accuse. “Your reaction just now? That proves it. You just have to admit it to yourself.”

His eyes shutter closed and he pulls back a bit more, allowing my lungs to fully expand.

I fight back a shallow cough and try to focus on steadying my breathing. All the while, I glare at my best friend, silently challenging him to deny his infatuation again.

We both know the truth. Why won’t he fucking admit it?

I push him off me with a forceful shove and jab at his chest. “You like her.”

Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, his expression tortured, he shakes his head. “She deserves more than me.”

“Bullshit. ”

He jolts, going stock-still.

I lean back against the storage shed, letting him see just how little of his self-loathing I plan to tolerate today.

The hat comes off again. He strangles the bill and wrings the worn fabric in his hands before he chucks it across the barn and clutches at his hair, tugging on the strands.

“I’m not fit to be with anyone. I can’t keep my shit together for more than a week at a time.

I barely feel human most days. I spent half of last week in bed, for fuck’s sake.

I can’t give that girl anywhere close to what she deserves. ”

He rights himself and paces, his boots scraping against the worn cement floor and kicking up dust with each pass.

“I’m not enough,” he murmurs, his head bowed. “Not anywhere near enough for the likes of her.”

The somber reality of his revelation chills my blood.

He believes, down to his bones, that he’s not worthy. It breaks my fucking heart.

Deadpan, I tell him, “I don’t need a lecture about your self-loathing. Don’t bullshit me here, Noah. Without any pretenses or excuses, I just need to know: Do you want to be with her?”

He halts, yanking on his hair again.

His chest heaves once. Twice. Then, with a sigh, he deflates. With a thick swallow, he looks me in the eye. “No. Not if you’re with her.”

Jesus H.

Conflict floods my system. If there was ever a time to live up to my legacy as an unfeeling, shrewd son of a bitch, this would be it.

But despite the armor I don when I have to deal with the rest of the world, I’ve never had to play that part around Noah. He’s the only person in my life who sees me for me. He’s the only person I’ve never felt the need to conform or twist myself into knots for.

Swallowing my pride, I straighten and offer him the honest truth.

“We’re new, she and I. There’s a connection there for sure, but nothing has taken root.”

I don’t want to give her up. But dammit, Noah deserves good in his life.

If this woman is what finally pulls him out of his funk and reminds him of what it feels like to live, he should be with her.

It’ll ache like a motherfucker.

But I would give her up for him .

Head down again, he drags the toe of his boot along the floor.

He’s shutting down. Refusing to reply. But I can’t handle existing in this gray area.

“Say something, dammit.”

He takes wide, slow strides to the back wall and snatches his discarded cap off the floor. Then he turns, leans against the weathered side panel, and crosses both arms over his broad chest.

“Noah,” I plead, my heart thudding heavily with anticipation and dread.

I need him to talk to me. To lean into this or to shut it down completely.

When he meets my gaze and gives an imperceptible shake of his head, my frustration boils over.

He’s so fucking stubborn. So dogged in his belief that he’s damaged beyond repair. He loved, and yeah, he lost. But he’s still alive. He needs to fucking act like it.

But the depth of his despair sometimes seems insurmountable. His grief lives right under his skin. It’s part of him. Some days, I think it’s all of him.

The jealousy that flared hot and overtook me on the porch flickers back to life. But then an idea nudges at my consciousness.

At first, I push it out. Try to file it as a fleeting thought.

But the idea doesn’t like that. Instead of passing, it nudges harder.

And harder.

And harder still.

Until it shoves me with a force that matches Noah’s outburst. It suffocates me until the only way to get relief is to let it in and really, truly consider it.

Tightness tugs at my chest as I deliberate. It might not work. Hell, even mentioning it could lead to a catastrophic fallout.

Normally, I would dismiss this line of thinking outright. Especially when it comes to my very straight best friend.

Yet here I am, gearing up to make things worse.

Fuck it.

It’s worth a shot.

Swallowing past the trepidation that has me in a chokehold, I offer up a proposition I never imagined uttering to Noah.

“There’s another option you haven’t considered.”

His icy blue eyes flare with interest, but the look is quickly replaced with skepticism .

“There’s a chance.” My voice cracks on the last syllable. I’m so fucking out of my depth. There’s no way he’ll go for this.

I clear my throat and start again.

“There’s a chance she’d be okay being with both of us.”

He scowls, the look part confusion, part distaste. Like he just bit into what he thought was a piece of candy, only to discover it’s a cough drop.

Noah isn’t completely closed-minded, but he’s traditional. He and Meg got married right after college. They’d been together for nearly twenty years when she passed.

Yet now that the idea’s out there, I can’t help but try to make my case.

“Think about it,” I urge him. “We could all be… together. I’m not suggesting a competition, because we both know you’d fucking win.”

That earns a slight tilt of his lips. Though he catches himself quickly and schools his expression once more.

“She could be ours. We could share her, if she’s willing.”

I stalk closer, assessing his stick-straight posture and the way he tracks my movements.

Boldly, I position myself mere inches in front of him. “Imagine making her shake and moan between us. Imagine knowing that her needs are being met—physically, obviously, but emotionally as well, and it wouldn’t all be on you.”

I pause, let the idea sink in.

“You could have her, Noah. You could let yourself have this.”

His scowl deepens, and my heart sinks.

But then his eyes meet mine, and in those blue-gray irises I’m so familiar with, there’s the tiniest spark.

Of interest maybe. Or curiosity.

I hold my breath as I wait for him to respond. To give me some sort of hint that I’m not totally off base with this suggestion.

His voice is quiet, hesitant when he finally speaks. “Have you… have you done that before?”

Anticipation and eagerness flood my veins, and my heart takes off. The buzzing in my brain feels an awful lot like hope. But I don’t want to come on too strong, so I school my expression before answering .

“I’ve had three-ways, yes.” I work to be factual, to remain calm. “But it was only ever about sex. I haven’t been in a relationship with multiple people where feelings were involved.”

His focus drills into me as I stand before him and put it all out there.

“To clarify, just sex isn’t an option for me.

I’m tethered to her in a way I haven’t experienced since—” I stop myself from going down that path.

“I care for her. Deeply. I won’t pretend otherwise.

And based on what I’ve seen, I think you care for her, too.

I’ve never done something like this before, but if you want to try, I would do it with you. ”

Before Noah can even open his mouth, the sound of a throat clearing snags my attention.

When his eyes dart over my shoulder and widen in panic, I follow his line of sight and slowly turn.

Jesus H.

I was so wrapped up in the moment I didn’t even think about her coming back to join us.

Yet here she is, with her hands on her hips and one brow cocked.

Sawyer looks at Noah first, then me, and smirks. “That was quite the closing argument, Professor. But have either of you given any consideration to what I might want?”